Two Sieges Don't Make a Usurpation
by DoctorStonegarden
Summary: Uther's slowly going mad. And the fact that he keeps wandering around in his bedclothes isn't helping Arthur quell his guilt over the fact.  Morgana suddenly appearing in Camelot with an army of sorcerers isn't exactly helpful either.
1. Morgana, Mornings, and Magical Questions

Chapter One: Morgana, Mornings, and Magical Questions

Morgana's anguished scream echoed around Uther's solar, speaking of impossible sorrow and promising dark retribution.

Merlin, Lancelot, and Gaius hastened away from the traitorous witch and her grievously wounded sister, backing towards the door.

Her screams reached a pitch, and the whole citadel began to sh-

Merlin awoke. His small room - rather than a screaming Morgana and a falling ceiling - greeted his eyes, and he welcomed it with open arms. Metaphorically.

Merlin's hands and by proxy his arms were currently occupied with clutching his sheets, which were damp with nightmare-induced sweat.

Sighing, he turned back over and considered asking Gaius for some sleeping draught; but no! Morgana had used sleeping draught when she started having visions, which set her on the road to evil.

Damn.

Back to Morgana again.

First she tried to kill him, then she plotted to kill the King, and then she conquered Camelot. Why did she have to haunt his dreams?

It had been months now; nigh upon half a year. And she hadn't been seen. No sightings, no rumours. Nothing.

No-one had any idea what she was doing, if she was doing anything; the optimistic hoped that after somehow escaping from the rubble of Uther's solar with the body of her probably-dead sister she had been paralysed by grief and gone away to spend her days in mourning for her dead kin; but no, she had tried to kill Uther out of revenge several times already. Who knows what devilry she had planned?

The realistic closed their ears to such hopeful nonsense, and made ready for war.

With Uther all but catatonic, Arthur was left to deal with the impending threat of Morgana and her sister, his half-sisters...

Arthur's preparations were normal for a king expecting siege; repair the damage to the citadel, augment the guard, get more knights, stockpile food, and so on. In public, in the Great Hall sitting on the throne, walking around, he was the great, shining prince everyone needed. In private, he was a wreck. As soon as he passed through the doors of his bedchamber or once everyone was out of his sight, Arthur sagged and his eyes lost their commanding, princely light. He was exhausted by his workload and agonising over Morgana's betrayal. Every evening he went to bed late, and fell asleep as soon as he sat down on the bed. Merlin had to undress his prince while he was sitting down and then struggle to get him beneath the sheets and comfortable.

Of course, Merlin _took absolutely no pleasure_, sexual or otherwise, in spending his evenings removing Arthur's clothes and manhandling him.

I digress.

Merlin, in his own small way, had been making preparations.

New spells, a few things filched here and there… if Morgana came again, with Uther out of action and Arthur almost on the verge of breakdown, Merlin's magic would without doubt be needed to deliver Camelot from evil.

But there was still one question that remained unanswered.

With Uther close to being out of the picture and Arthur displaying a fairly neutral stance on magic, it was nearing the time when Merlin might be able to reveal his secret to Arthur, and the whole of Camelot.

But could he?

"Good morning, your Pratness!"

Arthur stirred sleepily in his bed, lazily waving a hand in Merlin's direction, emitting a muffled sentence from deep within his pillow.

"Just a little bit longer, father…"

Merlin and Arthur had lapsed into a routine these past months, albeit unconsciously; Merlin would try and wake Arthur up the conventional way, and then Arthur would ask to stay in bed a little bit longer. Merlin would then wake Arthur up with a suitable application of cold water.

The prince's breakfast tray always had a spare jug of water for the wake-up.

Arthur spluttered and shot bolt upright, indignant.

"Again, Merlin?"  
>"It's the only way I can get you up, sire…"<p>

"Could you shake me awake for once? I am your prince, I don't expect to be drowned every morning."  
>"I tried that for about a week."<br>"Could you try it for a week more?" Arthur replied, irritably, getting out of bed and sitting down to his breakfast.

"Well," Merlin said, as he began stripping Arthur's soaked sheets to hang out of the window, "I'd have to call some guardsmen to help me like the last time."  
>Arthur snorted.<p>

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur devoured his breakfast keenly. Whilst helping Arthur put on his cloak, Merlin broached the question, dropping his chirpy manner.

"Arthur?"  
>"Yes, Merlin?"<p>

"When Morgana returns-"  
>"<em>If<em> Morgana returns, Merlin."  
>"<em>If <em>Morgana returns… how far would you go to stop her?"

Arthur turned around to face him, only one side of his red cloak fastened to his armour.

"What are you saying, Merlin?"  
>"It's one of those awkward questions I always have…"<p>

Arthur sighed.

"I will do everything, _everything_, in my power to see her dead and Camelot safe."

"Even resort to magic…?"

There was stony silence. Merlin thought Arthur was going to rage at him for even considering such a prospect.  
>To his great surprise, Arthur's shoulder's sagged, and he emitted a great, weary, sigh.<p> 


	2. Mouths Suck: So Do Surprises

Chapter Two: Mouths Suck; So Do Surprises

Arthur said nothing for several minutes, seemingly hoping the floor would provide an answer.

"I… I don't know, Merlin. I've seen magic used for evil… but there are people like the Druids…"  
>Arthur went silent again, raising his head to meet Merlin's eyes. His sky-blue eyes were conflicted, almost pleading.<p>

"What would happen," Merlin ventured softly, "if a sorcerer came and offered help?"  
>Arthur looked down again, and shook his head.<p>

"I don't know, I just don't know…"  
>He looked up again, and Merlin noticed the seeds of tears growing in his eyes.<p>

"I just…" the prince's voice trembled. "I just don't know what to do, Merlin…"

Merlin, much to Arthur's surprise, pulled him into a manly and entirely non-sexual hug.

Arthur's surprise was increased massively when Merlin spoke to him very quietly but with an unusual authority.

"Arthur. Most people only see the King to be, the warrior, the brave and noble heir to Camelot. If they could see you now, they'd probably think you were weak and scared and out of your depth, crying on the shoulder of your servant… but you're not. If anything, that makes you stronger. You _are_ afraid. But that doesn't matter. Because if you fear, you will try harder. Although you couldn't really be trying hard enough already-"  
>"You're just babbling now, Merlin."<p>

"I was just trying to make you fell better!" Merlin broke off the hug, mock-indignantly.

"Yeah, well, you just made me realise something."

"Really?"  
>"You have a very bony shoulder. Now finish with this cloak and get back to work."<p>

**X**

Arthur showed no sign of having ever had a breakdown that morning, or of being buoyed up by Merlin's words. Of course, for the sake of Camelot he couldn't give any side of his wobbly moment, and Merlin didn't ask about it.

Merlin stood with the other servants for the morning session in the throne room, which was, as it always seemed to be these days, a monotonous repeat of every other since Camelot had been freed from Morgana's terrible reign.

The latest report from the scouting parties told them that they had failed to find Morgana within Camelot; old hat.

Morgana, Morgause, or any other known sorcerers had not been sighted with the city; heard it.

The repairs to the citadel and the town were going well; old news.

When the reports had been read and orders had been given, the crowd dispersed. Merlin followed Arthur from the throne room, only to feel a tap on his arm.

It was Sir Leon. "A word, if you please, Merlin."  
>Merlin and Sir Leon stepped out of the flow of bodies.<p>

"Yes?" Merlin asked.

"I know Arthur better than most. He's cracking up on the inside, and he's leaning on you like an old man and a cane. You are his rock, Merlin, and he needs you."  
>"I'm just his servant…"<br>Leon smiled. "You are Arthur's greatest friend, and you know it. Please, Merlin, keep him strong, for the sake of Camelot. For all of us."

X

Merlin had made a habit of eating lunch with Gaius in the physician's chambers so that he could be close to his battle gear as much as possible if Morgana did attack.

He was glad he did.

Merlin was about to dip his spoon into the bowl of soup the old man placed before him when it… rippled.

Merlin withdrew his spoon and stared intently at the bowl, brow creased up.

It rippled again. And again. And again. Then the soup juddered violently, a miniature tomato-flavoured ocean in a storm.

Gaius looked down at his soup, which was also suffering from the same anomalous vibrations, and as custom dictated raised and eyebrow.

The two of them shared a look. And immediately rushed to the window.

**X**

_**Several months before…**_

"_Nearly there, sister…"_

_Morgause stroked her half-sister's forehead lovingly, sweeping her soft, golden curls aside._

_She stepped back and allowed Mordred to lift the stretcher upon which the comatose Morgause lay. Mordred levitated the stretcher from the ground, and hurried away with the floating Morgause in tow. Morgana turned around and imperiously regarded the young, dishevelled man in shackles who remained seated in the boat._

"_Get out."_

_The boy was terrified. His shackles rattled as he began to shake. The ruined castle was hauntingly beautiful, but the dark haired woman who had kidnapped him was preventing him from enjoying the scenery. He had no idea why she had taken him, or even who she was, who any of these people were. _

_Meekly, he obeyed, and went to his death._

_The rain stopped.__ The Cup of Life, its live-giving liquid drained into Morgause's mouth, suddenly glowed and vanished. Morgause opened her eyes and was immediately thrust into the dampened arms of Morgana._

"_Sister… you saved me." She smiled, and laughed when she saw the crumpled, bloodstained body at the foot of the tomb on which she lay._

"_You did well. Were my directions enough?"  
>Morgana smiled back.<em>

"'_Isle of the Blessed' and 'sacrifice' weren't much to go on, but Mordred found me in the forest and showed me the way. We figured out the rest." She was ecstatic. They had thought her sister dead, but she was alive, and they had escaped from Arthur's wrath!  
>Morgause looked away from her jubilant sister and to the figure standing behind her. <em>

"_Thank you Mordred. I owe you both."  
>"No, sister, you owe me nothing. You saved me from Merlin's poison, and now I have saved you!"<em>

_Mordred sidled up and slid his hand into Morgana's._

"_And now," Morgause said, her happy grin morphing into a complete, evil smile, "We finish what we started."_

**X**

Great golden balls of light were slamming down into the courtyard, rocking the whole citadel to its core. As they touched the ground, the light faded and revealed… people.

As soon as the strange light that had brought them faded, the people drew weapons and rushed away – but some cast spells…

Fireballs and lightning and cackling laughter filled the courtyard, which a minute ago had been a very picture of peace.

**X**

"_My friends," Morgana began, "it is time you knew why we have called you here." She was stood atop the tomb at the centre of the ruined castle on the Isle, addressing a large crowd of at least a hundred sorcerers._

_At her words, they ceased talking amongst each other and turned to her._

"_You know who I and my sister are, and you know our purpose: to destroy the Pendragons and relieve the oppression of our kind!"_

_At this there were several cheers._

_Morgause stepped forward and spoke._

"_This time, we do not intend to fail. Last time, we had an invincible army with a fatal weakness; they could all be killed at once. We will not make the same mistake twice."  
>Morgana took over once more.<em>

"_Last time, we used mere mercenaries for our army; Cenred's men would have been defeated were they not immortal. This time, we will have an army of sorcerers, against which the forces of Camelot have no training and no chance."_

_Morgause spread her arms wide._

"_We have devised a way of getting into the castle that will certainly… surprise Arthur. Will you join us, and free yourselves from the chains of the Pendragons' forging?"  
>She spat out the name with venom.<em>

_Morgana surveyed the crowd; some were nodding and moving forwards to pledge themselves; others were not convinced._

"_We need to show them, sister…" she whispered to Morgause._

**X**

The Knights and guardsmen had immediately rushed to the courtyard and were now engaged in a losing battle with the army of sorcerers.

And right in the centre… Morgana and Mordred… and _Morgause. _They casually tossed knights and guardsmen and fleeing servants alike from their path as the three stalked off, sorcerers trailing in their wake.

"Show-offs." Merlin muttered darkly to quell his fear.

Gaius turned to him. The old physician's eyes were fearful; but Merlin could see hope; hope that Merlin could save the day, as he always had, and always would.

"What are you going to do, Merlin?"

"Exactly what I've been preparing for."

And he rushed to his bedroom as though his life depended on it. Which it inevitably did.


	3. The Madness of King Uther

**Chapter Three: The Madness of King Uther **

_**A/N: **__(It helps if you imagine this bit like a 'kitting up' sequence from the A-Team or something. You'll know the bit I mean. Since it's right at the start.)_

By the time Merlin had opened his door the bed had moved aside, and the planks beneath had risen up, just as he had willed them to.

Hidden inside was his equipment.

First came the robe; well, it was more of a coat, really, of thick, dyed canvas. From the neck down to the waist there was a row of buttons. Merlin had come across it in the market and thought it perfect; it fitted him surprisingly well considering it was impossible to find the right kind of clothes for his skinny frame, it did not have flappy, restricting sleeves, and the openings at the front and back from the waist made it easier to move, with the not unwelcome side effect of making the robe-coat-thing dramatically billowy. He'd placed every enchantment he could think of on this robe-thing, and he hoped it would buy him some time if his reactions weren't quite quick enough.

It also matched his eyes.

Merlin shrugged the separate hood and its short mantle over his head and shoulders, and then reached for his weapons.

A longsword slung over his back, a harness with more daggers than Merlin cared to think about, and a dirk strapped to his leg. It had been easy getting the weapons; an order forged in Arthur's hand and it had all been Merlin's, with no-one the wiser.

Then came the final weapon; steel could shatter, but his Sidhe staff could not be destroyed so easily.

And there are very few swords that can fire deadly magic beams.

Strapping this to his back, Merlin paused to think about how ridiculous he must look.

And then he went to face his foes and his fear.

Gaius was bent over a thick, old book, poring over the pages. The sounds of battle still rang out.

Merlin coughed, and the old man tore his eyes away from his book.

"Merlin?" Gaius could hardly believe it. Merlin looked like he was about to collapse under the weight of all those blades.

"Umm…" Then he found his voice. The cheeky one. "Victory lies in preparation, right?" He grinned, but it was forced.

"Stay here and try not to die, Gaius."

Gaius was speechless, not even raising an eyebrow.

Merlin crossed to the door, breathed deeply, and stepped out to save Camelot. Again.

Gaius picked up his grimoire, and crossing over to the window, which he opened, and watched his young ward stride into the courtyard with what Gaius knew was probably false confidence.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Merlin…" the old man muttered as he readied a spell.

**X**

For the first time in weeks, Arthur had some time to himself. He thought to visit his father, who he barely had time to visit anymore, but passing the throne room on the way to his father's quarters, he heard raised voices.

Throwing open the door, Arthur's guilt was magnified a hundredfold by the sight that confronted him.

Dressed only in a soft linen bedrobe and his crown, Uther Pendragon was perched on the throne, practically frothing at the mouth while he declaimed that the five or so guards and knights trying to coax him back to his rooms were all evil sorcerers.

Uther's mind and heart had been broken when he realised that Morgana no longer loved him, and his decline into madness had not stayed as secret as Arthur would have liked. Arthur considered it as his one true failure while governing the kingdom for the King; his father, a subject of gossip in taverns the length and breadth of Camelot, and maybe even Albion as a whole.

"NO! Take your hands off me, traitor! I will see you burn!"

The knight meekly released the King's arm and shuffled away, narrowly avoiding a clumsy swipe.

"Father!"

Arthur hurried forwards.

"Leave us!" The knights and guardsmen hurried from the hall gratefully.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SEIZE THEM!"

"Father, they were trying to help you!"  
>"I am the King!"<br>"You're ill, father. I'll get Gaius to come and give you some medicine."  
>"I must take care of my kingdom, Arthur, I will rest later!"<br>"Father, I am taking care of things. I promise you that you will have a kingdom to come back to when you are better."

Uther narrowed his eyes, hard and harsh and mistrustful.

"You're trying to depose me!" Uther rose and pointed at Arthur accusingly, toppling over. Arthur rushed to catch his father, who went limp in his arms.

"Father?"  
>Uther raised his head. He was… crying. Tears of heartbreak and anguish and remorse trickled toward his chin. Uther was so <em>changeable<em> in his madness. One minute he could be demolishing the furniture in his rooms, then weeping on the floor for his lost daughter, his lost wife, his lost sanity… and then just as quickly would become catatonic, hardly able to do anything himself.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this, Arthur…"

The prince set his father back on the throne.

"I'll get someone to come and help you, father, I'll fetch Gaius."  
>Arthur made for the huge doors. Guilt was replaced by anger. His father was supposed to be under guard to stop him from getting out of his rooms and hurting himself. Arthur was angry at the guards for letting his father get past them. He was angry at Gaius for not being able to help his father. And he was angry with himself for being helpless as his father spiralled into insanity.<p>

Wait… what was that noise? Arthur stopped, and realised the thumping and the rattling of the building had been going on for at least a minute; his argument with his father had preoccupied him, and he had not noticed it.

Cursing, Arthur set off to investigate – and was blown back to the feet of the dais where his father sat.

The great doors had blown open, and a ragtag small army swarmed inside.

Some were robed; some wore mail, others leather; many had swords and clubs and all variety of weapons; others carried nothing.

What could they be but sorcerers?

His evidently had the same idea.

"Sorcerers…" Arthur heard Uther whisper, before rising and shouting, "Arthur! Arrest them!"

A cackling laugh cut through the air, and Arthur did not allow himself to pretend it wasn't Morgana.

The sorcerers parted, and Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred swept to the front. Morgana's green eyes flashed dangerously beneath her hooded cloak, the folds of blood red velvet pooling onto the floor.

Arthur drew his sword and threw his own Pendragon red cloak over his shoulders, out of the way.

Morgana clapped her hands gleefully.

"This is priceless! The mighty Uther Pendragon, dressed for bed and raving mad!"

Arthur said nothing, merely staring at Morgana with all the hate he could muster.

"Cat got your tongue, Arthur?"

Arthur knew it was hopeless to threaten them. Morgana and her sister had at least fifty sorcerers in the room, and who knew how many were in the rest of the castle?

"Arthur! Do as I say!" Did Uther truly think Arthur could beat fifty vengeful wizards and witches?

The throng laughed in unison.

Arthur was about to drop his sword and surrender in the hope the city would be spared, when a golden flash and a magical wind knocked him to his father's feet, making him drop it anyway.


	4. Bubblegum Won't Be Invented For Years

**Chapter Four: ****Bubblegum Won't Be Invented For Years...**

Merlin strode into the courtyard, nowhere near as confident as he looked.

No-one took any notice of him. The sorcerers probably thought he was one of their own, and the guardsmen were all occupied losing to the sorcerers.

"Hey! You ain't one of our guys!"

A young sorcerer brandished a club at Merlin, and was suddenly knocked unconscious by a fireball.

Merlin looked up to see Gaius leaning out of the window, still faintly glowing.

"Merlin! Your scarf!" The old man shouted down at him.

Merlin goofily pulled his neckscarf over his mouth and nose (it wouldn't do to save Arthur only for his secret to be discovered because he forgot to hide his face), and got back to the task at hand. The battle in the courtyard would have to wait. His priority was Arthur.

Merlin clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and focused, muttering to himself.

Just as a few sorcerers noticed him and their prone comrade beside him. Merlin disappeared in a golden flash.

Everything went dark, and Merlin felt like he was being tugged by invisible hands in every direction at once. He fought the urge to wriggle, and materialised in a bright golden burst, willing a suitably dramatic wind to accompany his entrance.

He was greeted by the sight of Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred all lying on the floor next to several other sorcerers. It was cheering to know that his timing was as good as ever.

As his three nemeses scrambled off their backsides, Merlin glanced around the room, quickly making a count of the sorcerers. Sixty-one. Sixty-four including his three enemies currently in the process of standing up.

Morgana and her sister would probably bank on their numbers overwhelming him and their own superior magical power if he succeeded in beating their minions.

Merlin suddenly realised how stupid this was. He had a short-range teleport spell, didn't he? Why not grab Arthur and Uther and run? But they would both probably run him through rather than let him lay his hands on them. And he had no idea if it worked on himself and another; they might well be vaporised or left behind; as Merlin knew from experience, if they wriggled the mobile appendage would be numb for several hours. Or they could lose a limb.

Merlin suddenly realised how much he was sweating. Why had he not taken his jacket off before putting the robe on?

_Note to self;_ Merlin thought,_ put a temperature regulation charm on this thing after I save Camelot_.

"Who are you?" Morgause challenged.

Merlin was paralysed; fear gripped his tongue, but it was to his credit that he was able to confine his shaking to a foot, quivering invisibly beneath the flappy tail of his robe.

Morgause took a step forward and asked again, more firmly.

"Who are you?"

Merlin swallowed, prayed no-one heard it, put on the gravelly voice he'd been practising for months and remembered to stop using elision and contractions while speaking.

"Ask any Druid."

Mordred's eyes were narrow and filled with hate. Merlin returned his stare, as well as the implied metaphorical daggers.

After a wait in which even the universe seemed to stop and stare a while, Mordred tore his eyes away from Merlin and looked up at Morgana.

His telepathic words echoed through the minds of all in the room.

**X**

_Emrys…_

The muttering immediately began. Morgana and Morgause were struck speechless.

Morgause found her voice.

"Emrys… this is an honour." She bowed slightly. "Have you come to aid us in deposing the Pendragon tyranny?"  
>"You would not bow if you saw who hides behind this mask."<p>

"But you are Emrys! The greatest warlock to ever live! How could I fail to respect you?"  
>"Because I am Emrys and another also. Someone you would never bow to."<br>There were a lot of people Morgause would not bow to.

She opened her mouth to speak again.

Emrys coolly raised a hand.

"Camelot is under my protection." Turning to face Arthur and the King, Emrys bowed stiffly. "My lords. I hope you will forgive me using sorcery to save your kingdom."

With a wave of his hand, Emrys conjured a glinting tubular shield enclosing the prince and his father.

Emrys swiftly turned around again.

Morgana extended her arms pleadingly.

"With you on our-"  
><em>He has said no before… Emrys will not join us now…<em>

Mordred's voice echoed through everyones' minds once more, cutting Morgause off.

There was nothing left to say.

Emrys calmly removed the staff from his back, winding the makeshift leather strap around the Sidhe-wood as his nemeses' minions readied their weapons. Fire and balls of light appeared in empty hands and there was much shaking of weapons, pointy, and blunt alike.

Emrys flexed the fingers of his other hand. His fear was exiled. Determination ruled in its stead.

"Beautiful day." Emrys said sardonically.

Morgana, Morgause and Mordred and stepped back. On that cue, their minions swarmed towards Emrys.

_**A/N:**_ _Firstly, if there is anybody reading this, thank you. Some reviews would be nice, but far be it from me to impose on your time and free will to tell me about this little tale._

_Secondly, I recently had an idea for another Merlin fanfic that I thought would be quite nice, but I need to plan it first._

_If you're reading this, thank you for doing so._

_- Doc'_


	5. But Asskicking Is Timeless

_**A/N;**_ _This is by far the longest chapter of this fic thus far and the first battle scene to exist in story format outside my head. But don't worry, it's not over 'til the Dragon sings. By the way, no Kilgarrah in this fic, it's too easy :3  
>Enjoy.<em>

_- Doc' _

Morgana blinked and was thrown backwards as a sorcerer suddenly appeared in a flash of golden light that toppled the front ranks of her sorcerers.

The rippling blue robe-coat-hybrid thing concealed anything about the strange man.

She probed him gently with her mind, while her sister challenged him.  
>He was powerful.<p>

Very powerful.

_Careful sister, _she sent to Morgause, _he is stronger than anyone in our army._

The sorcerer responded to her sister's challenge, sounding young, but like he had swallowed a bag of gravel as a child.

"Ask any Druid."  
>Morgana looked to Mordred, and knew that she should not even think about trusting this sorcerer. The young boy, almost a man now, who she considered to be a brother to her, was staring with hate plain on his face.<p>

_Emrys…_

Mutters and gasps echoed around the throne room.

Emrys… could it be? The Druids had foretold for years of the coming of a man who would be instrumental in leading Albion to a new golden age.  
>But no-one had heard anything. Morgana and her sister had spoken sometimes of Emrys, how if the prophecies were true he could aid them in ridding Camelot of the Pendragon scourge. One with such power could make their fight so much easier.<p>

And here he was.

Morgause flattered Emrys, beseeching him to join their cause. Mordred's expression told Morgana that Emrys would not join them; Mordred had no doubt crossed paths with her young friend and given Mordred a reason to hate him.

But she had to try.

"With you on our-"  
>Mordred's words echoed through their minds again…<p>

_He has said no before… Emrys will not join us now…_

She stopped, and silence fell.

There was nothing left to say.

As though he was wrapping a beloved possession in a soft cloak rather than preparing for battle, Emrys removed the staff from his back and wrapped the leather strap around it.

"Lovely day." The gravel voiced sorcerer muttered sardonically.

And on that unspoken cue, Morgana's minions swarmed Emrys.

Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred, stepped back into the centre of their small army, protected but given a respectful birth by their underlings.

There was a quick succession of flashes and whoomps.

About ten or so sorcerers soared over the throng, burnt or crackling with lightning and all very dead.

_Fifty-one to go…_ Emrys thought, clutching his staff before him with two hands.

The next have of sorcerers hesitated, put off by his rapid and effortless slaying of their comrades.

Morgana hissed menacingly at them, and this time twenty rushed him, hurling fire and energy and all manner of things, some of which Emrys had never seen before.

He would marvel at them later, once Camelot was saved.

Without flinching, he immediately summoned a curving shield that held with ease.

With a dramatic swirl of his hand, Emrys sent the shield into the left flank of the sorcerers, toppling them like the proverbial - and unknown to Camelot - bowling pins.

Immediately drawing the sword from his back, he muttered something. Cold, licking blue fire spread along the blade, and Emrys went on the offensive. The weapons of his foes simply shattered under the sorcerous flames of his blade, and his staff crackled with raw power, blue bolts of light slamming into the sorcerers.

Morgana fumed indignantly. Months of planning and recruiting, gone to waste. These sorcerers were some of the best they had in their army, and Emrys had almost halved the number they had taken into the throne room.

In less than two minutes.

And all he had done was stand still, wave his hands, mutter, and dodge a little.

Morgana readied drew her power up and clenched her fists, allowing it to build. She would knock Emrys right of his feet, tear down any defences he had, and then her underlings would swarm over him and he would be-

Morgause, feeling exactly the same way but nowhere near as impulsive, placed a calming hand on her sister's arm, and with that touch Morgause told her sister that there was still time; Emrys could yet be slain here, and if not, they had a hundred others in the castle who could take him on.

The second charge had ended as badly as the first, and it took all of Morgana's will power to stop her marching up to Emrys and trying to melt his face.  
><em>Twenty-eight… <em>Emrys had not neglected his tally.

The remaining twenty-eight backed up and threw everything they had.

Emrys slammed his staff into the floor, the blue crystal at the apex glittering as he willed its power to respond to his command.

A lightning-blue line of fire raced away from where the staff connected with the floor; Emrys left it standing and ran, pulling a long knife out of nowhere.

The blue flames scattered all those in its path; they were tossed aside like ragdolls, landing hard and painfully, burned by Emry's wrath and power.

One sorcerer dodged the fire-shockwave and stepped into his path to Morgana and Morgause, who had pushed Mordred behind them as soon as they realised his intention.

Emrys dispassionately snapped his neck with a thought, flinging the body into another foe who was trying to get up.

There was only Arthur behind him, who he had to protect at all costs; there was Morgana, Morgause and Mordred, with whom the path-clearing fire was about to collide; there were people in the room who wanted to kill him and Arthur, and that was it. He could not reason with them while Morgana and her sister were in the room. Emrys would feel guilty at his unfinished slaughter later.

Morgana raised her arms and flung Emry's magical fire back at him as it and he approached.  
>Emrys knelt and plunged his sword into the floorboards, dropping the dirk and gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands, as though he were a knight kneeling to swear a vow.<p>

His own attack engulfed him and dragged him backwards, but Emrys stayed kneeling and slid backwards along the floor, a hideous scraping noise following him as his sword dug a smoking groove in the polished throne room floor.

For a reason he couldn't fathom, Emrys regretted damaging the floor more than anything.

He came to a sudden halt, still kneeling and still afire. He had travelled halfway between the throne and Morgana; right in the middle of the remaining sorcerers.

Releasing the sword, Emrys stood up smoothly without any signs of being injured, casually brushing the last of the dying flames from his sleeves.

Morgana roared with impatience, and her sister added an angry growl.

Mordred said nothing, his hate manifesting only in his eyes.

Emrys met them, and for the first time since he entered the throne room in a flash and a gale, felt a tiny bit afraid.

With no apparently difficulty, Emrys plucked the sword out of the floor.

With a snap of his fingers, his sword was afire once more.

Emrys wasted no time in laying about the last twenty-eight.

He spun and smashed the mace and shield of one, turning to block another, before stabbing the first and ducking under the swing of the second and running him through.

_Twenty-six…_

The twenty-six charged, throwing everything at him.

Again, Emrys's shield hardly seemed to be troubled.

He dropped it, and was surrounded. With an angry bellow, a large man in boiled leather swung a warhammer from behind; a fallen sorcerer's shield rose up to meet it.

He swung again, and a dagger snaked between his leathers.

_Twenty-five…_

A whole menagerie of weapons and the odd shield rose into the air around Emrys, protecting him from every angle. Emrys lowered his sword, still ablaze, and held it point down as the battle against his aerial armoury began.

Most of the sorcerers were wearing armour of some kind; five were robed, and they held back, casting spells in the hope of getting past his floating force of weaponry.  
><em>Twenty-three…<em>

Emrys stood, illuminated by the light of his sword, seemingly withdrawn from the scene. In actual fact, he was seeing, sensing everything that was going on.

_Twenty-two…_

All the things floating in the air around him had a basic enchantment so that Emrys did not have to micro-manage every movement; but he still had to maintain a great number of these enchantments, so it would not do to start lashing out himself, should they animated arms defending him fall.

Not that that would be a problem…  
>In his detached but highly aware state, Emrys sensed the five robed and weaponless sorcerers moving back from the circle, seemingly having organised and made a plan.<p>

They raised their arms and chanted in unison, golden light spilling from their hands.

Five daggers withdrew from the leather harness Emrys wore, rising above the melee; the suddenly flew into the five, becoming blinding points of shining steel.

The five sorcerers clutched at their wounds, fatal and accurate and painful.

There was no question of their survival.

_Seventeen…_

Another two were killed in the melee; someone broke away.

_Fifteen…_

_Twelve…_

_Seven…_

_Six…_

_Three…_

Most of Emry's floating weapons had stopped once the enemy they had slain was gone, but now they all descended on the two left in the melee.

Their screams echoed in the vast chamber.

Emrys turned and walked back towards his staff, stride long and confident, where the last of the sorcerers was plucking up the courage to touch the Sidhe-made weapon.

_One._

Seeing his companions dead, and the deadliest warlock in the world bearing down upon him, he fled, and Emrys made no attempt to stop him.

Sheathing his sword and retrieving the staff, Emrys watched his progress as a full-up lion might watch a fleeing gazelle.

Morgana was all for burning Emrys where he stood, but she turned her acidic gaze on the fleeing sorcerer, who stopped in his tracks, and decided he would rather face the sorcerer who had let him live.

Emrys sighed. The young sorcerer suddenly found himself landing painfully at Morgana's feet. With an angry hiss she reached out to stop his heart, only to find he was dead.

He had hoped for mercy from the great sorcerer, only to find himself back at the mercy of his unmerciful mistress. His heart had given out rather than face whatever she might have done to him.

And as such, he was the only one in the room untouched by blade or burn.

"This isn't over, Emrys!"

Morgana's voice reverberated menacingly around the throne, uncontrolled fury distorting it and making her sound unnatural, evil.

"It never is with you people."

With a parting curse from Morgause and a lingering look from Mordred, the three fled, leaving Emrys and Arthur and the King with the destruction that had been wrought.

_**A/N;**__ While writing this I had a flash of inspiration to write another Merlin fanfic, a crossover which I've codenamed "Merlock", and I don't doubt you'll be able to guess what I'm going on about._

_I'll upload the prologue after this – but not called "Merlock", a decent name will come to me in time – so watch out._

_As always, reviews are appreciated, and thank you to all those who have taken the time._

_- Doc'_


	6. Destination: Defenestration

_**A/N; **__HP and DW references all round, methinks. With a side order of badass. Merlin really is getting OOC, I must rectify this with soppy feelings chapters._

Emrys turned and released Arthur and his father with a wave of his hand. The glinting shield vanished, and Emrys turned to leave.

Uther sat motionless upon the throne his mouth open and knuckles white from gripping the chair so tightly. Arthur had almost forgotten his father; his eyes were upon the sorcerer who had effortlessly beaten a room-full of Camelot's revenge seeking magical enemies. A sorcerer defending Camelot? It was unthinkable. Practitioners of magic _hated_ Camelot and its king who had hounded them needlessly for decades. Arthur was suddenly afraid of the masked man who had appeared dramatically and saved him from certain death.

Emrys shed the dagger harness and the sheath on his leg, levitating his sword back into the sheath on his back, magical flames extinguished.

"Please, sires, you must stay here. It is not safe."

Emrys spun on his heels and strode from the hall. Arthur gripped his sword and ignored the warlock.

Emrys turned left out of the doors, Arthur sprinting to catch up.

Arthur skidded to a halt outside the doors, seeing that Emrys had stopped also, swinging the staff onto his back.

The sorcerer glanced backwards. Arthur caught a flash of desperation in his eyes, the only visible part of his face; the rest was hidden by some form of sorcery, and a cloth mask that was quite possibly red.

A sudden scream of anger cut through the air; Morgana leapt from an alcove down the corridor, lightning forking from her hand.

Holding up one hand to absorb the attack with a swatting motion, Emrys waved behind him; what Arthur thought to be a 'get back, you fool' kind of motion turned out to be a spell that threw Arthur gently to his backside behind a pillar.

Morgana snarled viciously as another ball of crackling energy appeared in her hands; Emrys adopted a fighting stance, the lightning he absorbed from Morgana still crackling in his clenched fist, turning from white to sparking gold.

Morgana raised her hands above her head, the energy in her hands turning a deep, boiling red; she flung her arms down, a broiling torrent of red lightning surged towards Emrys; at the same time, he raised his hand and released his own stream.

The two beams collided in the middle with a thunderclap and a gale; where they met, a blinding white orb formed.

Morgana gasped, stumbling and almost losing control; her magnificent but impractical cloak snapped in the magically induced wind, her gown billowing out of control.

Emrys merely took a step back, not even grunting, his more practical robe flapping just as dramatically.

Arthur's own cloak slapped him in the face, and he wished he hadn't asked Merlin to fetch it this morning. Which reminded him…

_Where the hell is Merlin?_  
>Arthur slumped in the shadow of a pillar, terrified and steeling himself to make a run for the throne room, and safety, but decided against it as little forks jumped from the blinding sphere, scorching and chipping the stone. Arthur had no idea what would happen if one of those hit him, but realised it wouldn't be pretty when Emrys waved with his free hand again; anticipating another invisible push backwards, Arthur was relieved when a table from down the corridor slid in front of him, and he lunged gratefully behind the thick, dark wood, and sat sweating with fear, given a little respite from the howling wind and the cackling lightning. The table juddered as a few of the stray bolts slammed into it.<p>

Emrys took a step forward, keeping one hand free as the other blasted Morgana.

He took another, and another, and slowly made progress up the corridor.

Morgana frowned; the orb of white power between them grew more intense and expanded as the distance diminished.

Her frown vanished as she screamed; with his free hand Emrys had sent a fireball into her legs; the colliding beams dissipated, and the wind died with it.

Emrys resumed his stride, easily dodging a hasty fireball from Morgana, swiping another from the air, all the while wishing there was a fountain handy so he could trap her in a huge bubble of water.

Arthur rose, marvelling at Emry's apparent fearlessness in the face of Morgana's wrathful power; as these thoughts entered his head, Morgana saw an opportunity; tearing a stone slab from the floor with her mind and sending it at Arthur.

Emrys stepped into its path, holding a fist before him, the stone flag turning to dust on contact with him.

_Emrys is really concerned about keeping me safe…_

Morgana snarled and spread her arms wide; great chunks of the walls and ceiling were torn away, hurtling towards Emrys and Arthur.

Arthur was about to duck behind the table again, when all the stone shards crumbled to dust.

Arthur allowed himself a small smile, and followed Emrys down the corridor, who was holding a shield before him, and speaking calmly but with an edge of danger and fury.

"It was foolish of you to come here today, Morgana. The knights are on their way to find the prince, now that your forces have fled."

"If any knight gets here, I will be gone… and _you shall be dead!_"

Before she could hope to fulfil her threat, Emrys slammed his shield in her face, flinging her to the very end of the corridor, below a window looking out onto the courtyard.

Morgana clutched at jaw, hissing some ill sentiments.

She flung her arms in the air and chanted in a language Arthur only heard in his nightmares about her; Emrys broke into a run, and dived.

The window at the end of the corridor, which had miraculously survived - probably contrived by destiny so that it could be broken in the fashion Emrys had in mind - shattered as Emrys wrapped his arms around a very surprised Morgana, defenestrating them both.

Arthur sprinted to the broken window to see Emrys floating upright in the air some way out, shards of glass suspended beside him.

Morgana was not so lucky.

There was a scream and a sudden gust of wind, but despite Morgause's efforts Morgana still landed awkwardly, unconscious as soon as she hit the courtyard. The courtyard, filled with the remnants of Morgana's army, looked up in shock as they realised this was the Emrys Mordred had telepathically warned them of as the young Druid had fled the carnage in the throne room.

Morgause's eyes flashed an angry gold; a dozen swords of Camelot's fallen defenders soared from where they lay beside their brave, dead wielders, and directly at Emry's heart.

The warlock merely folded his arms.

The swords flew around him and lay flat in the air, forming a walkway between Emrys and Arthur.

"Since you refuse to heed my warnings and hide, I suppose I will have to look after you myself."  
>Arthur snorted, and planted his foot upon the first sword. It dipped slightly, but was solid, but swinging his leg to the next one, began to lose his balance.<p>

Before he could topple an embarrassing amount, Arthur felt Emrys steady him with invisible hands. Without turning round.

Damn, he was good. Arthur realised he felt somewhat awed and humbled that someone so powerful was defending Camelot. His father would not be so generous.

When Arthur had time to think, he would remark how odd it was that Emrys knew exactly how far apart to place the swords so that Arthur could walk on them normally, without taking baby steps or pulling a muscle with an over-reaching stride.

The sorcerers below stared up at Emrys.

Emrys stared down at them.

He didn't bother counting this time.

Arthur finally stepped onto the sword level with the warlock.

"You're taking the fact a sorcerer is saving Camelot remarkably well." The gravel-voice was quiet, almost expectant.  
>Below, Morgause was shouting orders while she held her sister in her arms.<p>

"Well, my view of the whole thing has changed a bit."

Arthur got the feeling Emrys wanted to say something.

Instead, he lowered Arthur and himself to the ground, their clothing tugged by the breeze.

Storm clouds were gathering overhead.

Emrys took his staff from his back and unsheathed his sword as calmly as he had before.

Arthur assessed the situation, adopting a fighting stance.

There was at least double the number of sorcerers in the courtyard than there had been in the throne room; every door was closed and sealed with magic; Arthur was fairly certain that was the case, given that the doors were glowing faintly. The faint sounds of someone – several someones - hammering against the door reached Arthur's ears.

Arthur was afraid; the immortal army had just been mercenaries who happened to be immortal. They could be knocked out and held back indefinitely; but over a hundred sorcerers…

"Are you sure you can do this, Emrys?"

The warlock remained silent, but stepped forwards. The sorcerers shuffled back a little, and then he said – as much to himself and Arthur as his foes arrayed before him - "The storm is about to break."

"You absolute…" Morgause shoved her way to the forefront, fury etched on her visage, tears smearing her cheeks.

"Maybe you can save your sister's life again. How did she acquire the Cup of Life, anyway? The last I heard was it was buried under a mountain of rubble with the both of you."

"That is of no concern to you! My sister has broken her legs! And it was _you_!"

"Leave, Morgause. You may heal your sister once you have gone; but if any of you come against Camelot again I _will kill you_."

A few sorcerers considered this offer quietly, muttering to each other. Ultimately, Morgause's death-glare proved to be a more swaying factor than Emrys's offer of clemency.

"NO! You will pay for my sister's injuries! I will kill _you_ for all those lives you took in the throne room-"

"I had no choice."

"I gave you a choice! And now you will die!"  
>"Your sister said the same thing before I threw her out of that window. Do you co-ordinate your evil monologues like you match your dresses?"<p>

Morgause roared and threw herself at Emrys; he threw up a shield, but she was not the subject of her attack; a fireball and a smug, evil grin later, and -

"ARTHUR!"

The prince's cloak was spread out around him like a pool of blood; a smoking burn stood out on his chainmail, black against silver; a trickle of blood from his head dropped to the ground with the tiniest of plops.

To Emrys, that single drop hit the ground louder than a thunderclap.

Morgause cackled maniacally; "You have failed in you hopeless mission!"

Emrys wanted nothing more than to run to Arthur and hold him, to hold his gaze and tell him he was sorry for not being quicker.

But the fantasy of dealing with that smug grin Morgause insisted on plastering across her face was just as alluring.

The power spilled in simmering waves from his cracking voice that had lost some of its harshness; overhead the cloud rumbled. The sound of a famished giant.

Emrys lowered his arms, exhausted, as the first bolt struck and huge droplets left tiny stains on the slabs.

Exactly as planned, Morgause's smirk melted like her make-up as the bodies of her soldiers rained down from above, having been tossed up in the air by the first lightning strike, smouldering and crackling as forks of white power rolled across their bodies.

Another strike and she fled to the centre of the courtyard, where Mordred held the hand of her sister, still whimpering from the pain of her shattered legs.

Mordred cast a tear-inducing death-glare at Emrys before raising a glinting shield around the three of them.

**X**

Arthur groaned, and wearily scratched his aching head, and the biting wind. He reminded himself to tell Merlin to stop filling up his goblet after the third and close the window if it looked like a storm was brewing; but feeling a warm slickness in his hair, and the sudden hammer-blow of pain in is chest, Arthur realised his headache had nothing to do with drinking too much mead and the wind wasn't the result of his clumsy manservant leaving his window open. Opening his eyes, Arthur forgot the pain for a second when he beheld the burning rain.

Yes.

The rain was on fire.

Little streaks of orange were falling ponderously from far above, casting a strange light over everything; Emrys with his arms held out, the veritable hurricane grasping at his clothes, staff and sword discarded; Morgause clutching her broken sister and howling in grief, little Mordred staring with inexpressible hate; the lucky few who had been fortuitous enough to evade being blasted by lightning were now being burnt by the fire that descended from on high.

As the last of them collapsed and ceased screaming, the last tongues of orange vanishing from their bodies, the enchantment on the doors broke; from every one guardsmen and knights and servants handiest with frying pans spilled into the courtyard; and back-pedalled at the sight of the pouring rain. The pouring, flaming rain.

From the top of the castle steps, the Knights of the Round Table made a dash for their prince; Emrys lowered his arms and collapsed; the fiery rain abated.

"SIRE! Are you alright?" Leon was the first to the fallen prince, concern for his future king tearing away all knightly pretences of composure.

Arthur said nothing, and groaned. Emrys's spectacle had relegated the pain to a dull ache in his bones for a short while, but now it rose up with vengeance.

Wordlessly, Emrys gently pushed Leon aside.

"_Seópan ærest wearð feasceaft funden. Denum æfter dom.__ '__Dreamleas gebad he gewann langsum!"_

The thunderous tones of the great warlock echoed into the distance as Arthur was bathed in golden sparks; Sir Leon reeled back from Arthur.

Without checking the success of the healing spell, Emry turned back to the final problem. Morgause, supporting Morgana while Mordred continued to glare, was beginning to chant.

Emrys stepped towards them, cold fury twisting his voice.

"_How. Dare. You._"

Clenching his fist, the three were pulled to the floor by his magic; Morgana screamed in agony, her broken legs twisted beneath her.

Mordred raised his hand to cast a spell, but Emrys snarled, and the boy's hand instead went to his throat; he was being choked.

The three were dragged closer, struggling against the invisible hold of Emrys.

"Who…" Morgause spluttered, for the hand of Emrys was clutched about her slender throat as well as Mordred's, "Who… are you?"

The three were hoisted into the air like puppets, and the people of the castle unconsciously moved closer to hear what was about to be said.

"Now you listen to me carefully. I am Emrys; I am the creaking step that gets you caught in the middle of the night; I am the guardian angel who can only spread his wings in the dark; I am the falcon who wears the feathers of a duck. And I am a servant of fate. It is my destiny to see that Arthur's destiny is brought about and if you get in my way again I will not hesitate. If bringing about a golden era for Albion means protecting the world's greatest clodpole, then so be it."

He released them; his three enemies released gasps of pain and relief. And fear.

"Now go. No, don't go. _Run away_. Go on, you three _runaways._ I want you to be called the Runaways. I want children to laugh and point and shout that they've found the three ragged runaways, who thought they could take me on. _So run_."

Morgause looked to be on the verge of wetting herself, doe eyes wide and terrified. Even Mordred no longer had the cool, hateful mask he normally wore.

Morgause chanted, Morgana in her arms and Mordred holding her hand. In a golden flash the three vanished, to plot the downfall of the Pendragons again.

As soon as they were gone Emrys fell to his knees, panting slowly, clawing at the stone slabs as though they could give him back the strength he had expended.

"Did you call me a clodpole?"  
>Emrys froze, and immediately regretting improvising his badass boast rather than composing one beforehand.<p>

He rose, shoulders slumped in fatigue, and suddenly was struck by the perfect excuse.

"I talk to Merlin a lot."

"Wha-? That's no excuse to use his insults!"

"He was right about one thing."

"What?" Arthur demanded, trying not to be jealous that his manservant had been on speaking terms with the most powerful warlock in existence before Arthur himself.

"You _are_ a bit of a prat."

Arthur scowled, but held his tongue.

Emrys looked around to find everyone was staring at him.

"Is no-one going to arrest me?"

A guard bravely shuffled forwards. Emrys made no move to stop him, but the guard's movement suddenly slowed as he came within an arm's reach of the sorcerer.

Emrys stepped out of the way, and the guardsman toppled over as he moved out of magically-induced localised time-slowing-ness.

Arthur couldn't help but smile, but it faded slightly as the voice of Emrys echoed in his mind.

_Go to the North tower and seek the tallest tree…__ I will wait while the moon is high and the Camelot sleeps…_

Without even thinking about it, Arthur knew he would go.

Emrys turned, and retrieved his sword and staff. Acting on impulse, Arthur slapped him on the shoulder; Emrys shrunk away instinctively at his touch, and Arthur was surprised at how bony his shoulder was.

The Knights of the Round Table and their prince were about to give their thanks when a figure in an ermine and red velvet dressing gown forcefully shoved his way through the crowd.

"SIEZE HIM!"

"I hope your father will say thank you next time he sees me."

Arthur could have sworn Emrys winked at him, before disappearing, followed by Uther's furious screams.

Slipping quietly away from his father, Arthur hastened to Gaius's rooms in search of Merlin.


	7. Angst of a Teenage Warlock Part 1

Gaius examined the sorcerer's bruise. He shouldn't have been surprised someone had come upstairs to see who was throwing fireballs out of the window, but the old physician couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he glanced at the discarded pot lying nearby.

He hadn't meant to hit the sorcerer that hard.

Honest.

Gaius almost jumped out of his skin as Merlin appeared in a bright flash.

"I see I missed one…" His disguised young ward said, exhaustion evident in his voice.

Gaius set about tying the man up as Merlin threw down his sword and staff in preparation for slumping into a seat.

That wooden chair… in the past it had seemed horribly uncomfortable but after all the effort expended in fighting back a small army by himself…

That chair would be like a throne.

Merlin made ready to allow his legs to flop just the right amount, just enough so that he fall into that welcoming wooden embr-

"MERLIN!"

Arthur's voice echoed up the stairs, shocking Merlin's innate clumsiness into asserting itself over the grace and precision he had displayed while blasting the sorcerous hordes.

Merlin fell over the chair, scrambling quickly to remove the blue robe that had disguised him so well. With a flash of his eyes, the staff and sword skittered under the bed, Gaius's sheets flowing over the bed to hide what was concealed beneath.

"MERLIN!"

Gaius snatched the robe away from Merlin and folded it into a makeshift pillow beneath the insensate sorcerer's head.

The door flew open, Arthur practically falling into the room.

"Ah! Hello, sire!" Gaius greeted the prince, turning to Merlin, "It's just a bruise, my boy, you'll be fine. Now get some St John's Wort balm for this fellow's head. He'll think he's been drinking too much when he wakes up, you needn't have hit him so hard." The old man chided.

Merlin did as he was bid, then froze when Arthur addressed him.  
>"Where have you been, Merlin?"<p>

Merlin applied a look that implied Arthur had asked a ridiculous question, turning to face his master.

"Knocking out sorcerers with Gaius?"

"I can see that."  
>"Why the sudden concern?" He grinned cheekily. "Aww, was the prince worried about his ickle Merly-werly?"<p>

Arthur looked as though he was on the brink of saying something important and deeply touching, but Merlin's bait was too tempting, and his most prattish expression assumed full control of his face.

"No, the horses were frightened half to death by the attack, they've made a complete mess in the stables. I don't think I need to tell you where you'll be spending the rest of the day. After that, my armour's going to need cleaning, and I'll have a bath after dinner. Shut up and get to work."  
>The prince, satisfied that Merlin was fine, spun on his heel and marched away.<p>

Gaius's customary eyebrow went a little bit higher, and sighed.

He patted Merlin on the back.

"Just remember to send someone up to take this fellow to the dungeons."  
>Merlin nodded and gloomily went to do his chores.<p>

"Oh, and Merlin?"

Merlin put his head back around the door questioningly to see the old man smile.  
>"Well done."<p>

**X**

Arthur didn't like seeing Merlin unhappy. Arthur hadn't made him unhappy, and because his manservant's despondency wasn't the prince's doing, he didn't like it.

Merlin's banter was perfunctory and lacking in enthusiasm. He performed all his tasks perfectly, without once calling his master a prat.

Arthur missed the insult, though he would never admit it.

Something was bothering the young man, something _big_. Anyone else might not have noticed it, but Merlin's eyes were downcast and permanently thoughtful. It was times like these that Arthur realised Merlin wasn't a complete idiot if he could look that introspective.

Arthur once again tried to strike up a conversation with his morose manservant.

"So… a sorcerer saves Camelot. Strange, isn't it?"  
>Though his back was turned to the bed Merlin was in the process of readying for the prince's sleep, Arthur could tell his manservant had paused for a second in the act of turning the sheets back.<p>

He replied with a polite affirmative, and continued.

"Of course, it's maybe not the first time…"

There it was again, a pause in the rustling of the sheets. Merlin finished and moved to lay out Arthur's clothes for tomorrow, stopping as Arthur held up a hand.

"That will be all, Merlin."

"Good night, sire."

_What is up with him today?_

**X**

The King paced in his chambers, dinner uneaten on his table, servants sent scurrying by his anger.

Uther's rage was palpable, a veritable wall of anger that seeped through his chamber walls and made the guards on his door twitch uncomfortably.

A sorcerer. A sorcerer in Camelot. A sorcerer who had saved the day.

It was unthinkable!  
>There was more to it than a passing act of gratitude by the world's most powerful warlock. There had to be! Sorcerers always had a hidden, evil agenda.<p>

Uther had researched the Druidic prophecies in the time of the Purge, hoping to learn something about the people he was hunting; from what he remembered, this _Emrys_ would be instrumental in returning magic to Camelot and uniting Albion.

Uther had sometimes allowed himself to fantasize about ruling the whole of Albion, before he had been reduced to a raving madman with a crown. But he had no fantasies now. He was the sanest he had been before Morgana had broken his mind.

He could not allow this Emrys to pursue this goal.  
>But where does one find the most powerful warlock in the world if it is not his wish to be found?<p>

The King's dressing gown flapped - in a way that would have been deliciously dramatic had the garment not been, well, a _dressing gown_ - as he paced, considering the problem.

Then he remembered… as he had charged down the steps towards where his son and Emrys stood…

They had shared a look.

Just a brief one, before the sorcerer had used his evil arts to vanish into thin air and Arthur had stormed off to find his idiot manservant. There was something about that boy that rankled Uther, despite the idiot throwing himself into danger multiple times for Arthur and Camelot.

No matter.

Uther was a little mad, but he recognised that his son was going to find the sorcerer…

Knowing sorcery as he did, Emrys would probably have used some magical trickery to tell his son where to meet him. But that did not mean Uther could not _follow_ his son.

But the sorcerer would have all manner of tricks and defences to warn him of Uther's coming!

But wait – what else had he said?

He claimed to protect Camelot… and _Arthur_.

Uther quickly wrote out the plan. And drew a dragon for good measure.  
>Satisfied with the idea, Uther sent for his most trusted knights, who had known him since he had won the throne of Camelot, the guardsmen relieved he had calmed down.<p>

Problem solved and decision made, Uther turned to the problem of the castle.  
>The wooden blocks that had once been Arthur's toys were now situated on the table, the castle that Uther had built with his bare hands the night previously no longer there; it's proud, wooden walls torn down somehow, the stout towers toppled, the keep demolished.<p>

It was that Emrys, it had to be, destroying his castle just to spite him…

**X**

The unexplainably sullen Merlin gone, Arthur crossed to his wardrobe.

Arthur fumbled with the huge, plain leather coat for a second, wondering why he didn't wear it more often.

Remembering that it was hardly practical for hunts or appropriate for many of the royal obligations of a prince, Arthur made to remove it.

But this wasn't a royal occasion; he was going to a clandestine meeting with a sorcerer. Besides, it was a cold night. And it was black, sneaking out would be much easier in black.

_No,_ Arthur reminded himself as he furtively stepped out of his chambers after waiting a few minutes, _wearing black at night just makes you look like a moving black blob_.

Cursing his childish desires, Arthur crept down the corridor, using the servant's stairs.

He knew Merlin did this all the time, and was surprised he himself didn't do it more often. The guards on the castle gate were pitifully easy to get past.

After this business was done, Arthur was going to have words with the captain of the guard…

The city gate guards were no harder to distract than the castle guards. A simple push of a barrel into the street… and they abandoned their post.

Grinning, Arthur dashed through the gate, cursing as he tripped on his coat in the process of turning around to check the guards were still running after the wayward barrel.

Muttering darkly, Arthur set off into the forest.

The coat had nothing to do with being sneaky or keeping warm. He just wanted to be flappier than Emrys.

**X**

_It's getting rather thorny…. Good thing I have this coat… No clothes envy here…_

The thorny patch finally ended, Arthur's excuse for taking his coat ending with it. The forest began a gentle upward slope, and though he had been robbed of his excuse, he could still curse the sorcerer for taking him so far off the beaten track.

The trees thinned out at the crest of the hill. A curving meadow swept for about a mile before him. A tinkling stream cut through the middle of the long, yellow stalks of grass and the wildflowers. Where the stream curved closest to the tree-line, about a quarter of a mile, a vast, ancient oak tree thrust its branches proudly, with the unspoken nobility possessed by all things who live to be ancient.

Trying not to pant from his exertions, Arthur was just glad he had thought to go and look for the "tallest tree" from the North Tower in the daylight. But was this the right tree?

And where was the damned warlock?

Arthur sat himself at the base of the tree, expecting Emrys to appear out of thin air.

Both of Arthur's questions were answered simultaneously as he did so.

Invisible hands seized him, and he was overcome by a certain feeling of weightlessness – and tinge of fear.  
>Why hadn't he brought someone with him? Emrys could have ulterior motives; his father always maintained that users of magic did. But was Emrys really out to get him, or was he genuinely protecting Camelot?<p>

Arthur struggled against the gentle unseen grasp out of reflex as he was lifted from the ground. Soon enough, he was set down on a high branch; even though he was now higher than the rest of the forest canopy, the branch of the oak tree was at least as wide as a single bed, comfortable to stand on without worrying about balance.

Emrys was standing nearer the end of the branch, robed and masked, but with no weapons in evidence.

_Of course, he doesn't need any…_

Arthur had the strangest feeling that the warlock was watching him with faint amusement, no doubt induced by the prince's futile struggle.

Saying nothing, the warlock turned and walked confidently further down the branch.

Arthur, less sure of his footing, followed.

"Do you not trust me to catch you?"

Arthur looked up from his feet to see Emrys seated at the end of the branch, and saw why he had chosen this branch in particular.

It stuck out from the crown of the oak, affording a magnificent view of Camelot two miles away, the grey citadel glittering a little in the dark.

Emrys had clearly made this a seating place of some sort; smaller branches that would normally not have formed under natural circumstances were woven together into a backrest, garlanded with flowers from the meadow.

"Isn't this a little too… romantic?" The prince enquired.

Emrys shot him a withering look from beneath his hood and mask.

"Wrong story, sire."  
>Arthur cleared his throat and took a seat a comfortable distance from the warlock.<p>

"Who are you?"

"Your protector."  
>"I thought you said you protected Camelot?"<br>"You live in Camelot, thus I protect Camelot as well."

"You still haven't answered my question."  
>"You know who I am."<br>"No, I really don't. I can't even tell what colour your eyes are, or what colour that mask of yours is."  
>Emrys chuckled, odd-sounding with his gruff, gravelly voice.<br>"Befuddlement charm. It only works while the mask is up, but you will never be able to make your mind up about anything you see of my face."

"I still want to know who you are. I think I have a right to know who my 'protector' is."

"Were you even listening to the little speech I gave to Morgana and her sister, and the boy, Mordred?"  
>"Yes, but that just raised more questions."<br>"Such as?"

"Why are you so desperate to protect me? Every other sorcerer I've heard of would throw me off this branch."  
>"I am like no other sorcerer."<p>

Arthur sighed. Emrys relented.

"Very well. One day, when you are king, I will be able to step out of the shadows. I will not have to wear this mask every time you need me. One day, I will just be me."

"You think I will allow magic back into Camelot."  
>"I <em>hope<em>. And that is why I am here. There are those – like Morgause and Morgana – who would see you and your father dead so that they could hurry along the freedom of magic. But I am more patient. If your father dies by sorcery, that would turn you against it forever, and thwart your destiny, and I cannot allow that to happen. If you die by sorcery, your father will only get worse, and if both of you are dead, the people will believe your father's paranoia to be justified. In any case, I will have failed you. I will have failed everyone."

"My father had good reason to be paranoid!"

"It is his own fault. If he had not started the Purge the kingdom would be at peace and he would have his sanity."

Arthur wanted to push Emrys off the branch for speaking ill of Uther. But he was right.

And he could just float back up if he fell.

"I will admit…" Emrys sighed, "I will admit that you have seen only destruction from all the sorcerers you have met. I can do so much more. We all can. Magic can be beautiful."  
>A little golden ball of light appeared before Arthur, who was transfixed.<p>

As he watched, it flickered and went through all the colours of the rainbow.

Emrys was pleased to note the prince's interest.

The light expanded and changed, split; little animals, rabbits and horses, a unicorn, a dragon, birds and deer, all made of light, danced around Arthur's head.

With a gentle 'whoomp' they were all sucked back together, into a single red rose, floating in the air.

Arthur gently plucked it, entranced.

_Maybe he has a point…_  
>Then another question came to mind.<p>

"How do you know Merlin? You said you picked up 'clodpole' from him?"

Emrys said nothing.

"I have a… _peculiar_ relationship with Merlin. We are completely inseparable, but neither of us are entirely comfortable with what the other is and has to do."  
>"So… you were childhood friends or something?"<br>"Not exactly."  
>"And where does he come into all of this? He's been moody lately, something's bothering him. Does it have anything to do with you?"<p>

Emrys gulped.

"It has _everything_ to do with me. He is guilty for me, for what I must do and have done, what he must do to hide me."

"He helps you? He _hides_ you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"So… how can he help you? He's just Merlin, and you're…"  
>"Emrys? Hmmph. The idea that I would need help to do anything seems preposterous now that you have seen what I can do, does it not? But Emrys the great warlock cannot be with you constantly. <em>Merlin<em> the bumbling manservant is ever at your side, ever watchful of danger, always protecting you."

"I know."

Emrys wasn't quite sure what to say at this point.

"You… know?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Everything works out fine when he's around, for some reason."

The warlock nodded sagely in agreement.

"It's almost like magic."  
>Arthur made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, turning to face his companion on the branch.<p>

"Oh, spit it out! I _know_ Merlin uses magic to protect me!"

Emrys said nothing. All his self control went into not pulling down his hood and the mask. Arthur continued.

"Last night, I was lying in bed just after he'd gone, and for some reason I wondered how he managed to heat up my bathwater so quickly. Then I started to think about all the little miracles that happen around Merlin. Conveniently falling branches, a bandit impaled by a spear that no-one threw… and he's there, lying on the floor or hiding somewhere. But he's always there, always helping."

The two of them sat in silence for a while.

Arthur because he wasn't sure what to say next.

Emrys because of sudden emotional turmoil.

"Why… why have you spared Merlin?"  
>Arthur rubbed his temples, shaking his head.<p>

"When I realised it I was about to jump of bed and cut him to pieces. Then I stopped. And I realised that even if he _is _a sorcerer… he's still just Merlin. Clumsy, incompetent, stupid, brave, loyal Merlin, who's saved my life more times than I can probably think of. And I couldn't send him off to be burnt, because he just couldn't be evil. If he's willing to risk his life to protect me with skills that would get him sent to the pyre, then it can't be all bad…"

Emrys said nothing, seemingly taking a sudden interest in the ground.

Arthur continued, smiling a little.

"Besides… it's _Merlin_ we're talking about. He can hardly walk in a straight line. I doubt he could do what you do, he's no threat."

Emrys gave a resigned sigh, turning to face the prince for the first time.

"You brought this on yourself, your pratness." He muttered darkly, reaching for his hood.

Arthur frowned, and was on the verge of an epiphany when Emrys negated the necessity of going through one.

Hood down, mask revealed to be nothing but a red neckscarf, thundercloud blue eyes staring mournfully at the ground, unable to meet Arthur's…

"_Merlin?_"

_**A/N; **__Next time on TSDMAU; Merlin and Arthur get angsty; Uther's plan goes into action; and many pranks are played._

_EDIT: Minor edits for missed words. How they missed my sweeping gaze the first time is a mystery._


	8. Angst of a Teenage Warlock Part 2

Merlin said nothing, unable to meet Arthur's eyes, unable to speak, his mind devoted to terror and remorse.

"Merlin?" Arthur sounded genuinely concerned rather than incredulous.

"I'm… fine." He choked on his words, sounding anything but fine.

"You're not, Merlin, I can tell you aren't, so don't lie."

Merlin groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"So many, Arthur."

Arthur gently placed a hand on Merlin's back.

"I killed them, Arthur. You saw. All of them."

"I know, Merlin. It was incredible."

Merlin's well of emotion, bursting with guilt and overflowing with secrets, finally popped.

"It wasn't incredible!" The tears began to streak down his cheeks. "It was slaughter! I cut them down, blasted them where they stood. They were helpless. And I felt _nothing_. Nothing, Arthur. Not until it was done! And then I had to go back to just being your manservant, and I couldn't pretend to be happy-go-lucky, clumsy Merlin because everything I've done is catching up with me! I feel… I feel…"  
>Arthur wasn't quite sure how to handle this.<p>

"It's okay, Merlin, you saved everyone. Lots more people would have died."  
>"It's not <em>okay<em>! I'm a monster! I've done terrible things, Arthur, and you would hate me if I told you! You should hate me! I've lied to you for-"  
>"Mer-"<br>"-years! I've murdered and poisoned and destroyed people's lives! And if you want to-"  
>"Merlin-"<p>

"-pick up your sword and cut my head off, I deserve it!"  
>"Shut up and hug me."<p>

Arthur seized his deeply troubled friend into a bone-crushing man-hug. First there was a sniff. And then Merlin howled.

Arthur had never really seen Merlin cry before. He always seemed so happy, so upbeat. Whatever it was he'd done, it was bad. Really bad.

They sat there, a shuddering Merlin venting his woes into Arthur's shoulder, and soon Arthur found he was crying as well.

Eventually Merlin ran out of tears, and pushed himself away from Arthur.

"Now, Merlin, I want to know everything. _Everything_. I want to know about every time you saved my life and Camelot. I want to know, so I can thank you for it."

Merlin wiped his tears away, mastering himself, and finally managed a remorseful smile.

"I'm glad you don't hate me, Arthur."

**X**

It was Arthur's turn to feel terrible. All these years, Merlin had watched his back, defended him when no-one else could, thrown himself into danger without so much as a backward glance.

All for the brighter future he hoped Arthur could bring, and for Arthur himself.

And Arthur had hardly thanked him for it.

All those times when he'd woken up to see that smile and a fixed problem, all those times when troubles suddenly disappeared into thin air.

All Merlin got was the occasional 'well done'.

Watching the young warlock walk towards the trees, Arthur couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt; Merlin had bottled up everything from the day he arrived and never found anyone to confide in.

As for the things Merlin had done, Arthur found he could not be angry with Merlin for anything; the Great Dragon had attacked Camelot of it's own accord, blinded by grief. Merlin never ordered it to.  
>And he'd ordered it to go; but at the cost of losing his father. That cantankerous, grumpy old Dragonlord, Balinor, had been his father, and Merlin had only known him for a day.<p>

Then there was Morgana.

Arthur couldn't deny that faced with the same situation as Merlin, he would have done the same thing. Her, or Camelot.

He blamed himself for her descent to evil; but Arthur didn't.

Merlin had tried to help her come to terms and accept her magic, but she had thrown that back in his face and betrayed all of them.

He couldn't hate Merlin. He could never accept, no matter what Uther had brought him up to believe, that someone so selfless and kind could possibly want to destroy Camelot.

It just didn't make sense.

Arthur waved as Merlin vanished in a golden flash, back to the castle.

For Arthur, it would be the long way; no teleporting for the prince.

But what was that noise?

A steady flap…

The wind increased exponentially, Arthur being blown off his feet as something huge landed with a ground-shuddering thump.

Arthur lifted himself from the ground, desperately resisting the urge to flee as his eyes took in a huge, golden dragon, staring down at his tiny form with glittering, benevolent eyes. Despite thinking that he should be terrified of the huge beast before him, Arthur knew he had nothing to fear from the Great Dragon.  
>"A word, young Pendragon."<p>

Arthur picked himself up from the grass.  
>"You must be Kilgharrah."<p>

The dragon chuckled.

"So the young warlock has told you of his magic?"

"Er… I guessed, actually. I just didn't know he was, well, the most powerful sorcerer in existence…"

Kilgharrah's head shifted in what Arthur presumed was a draconic eyebrow-lift.

"You are more intelligent than he gives you credit for."

"Hey!"

Kilgharrah bared his teeth in what could only be a grin.

"Yet, you do not plan to kill him. That is good."

"Well… it's _Merlin_. He can't be evil, and I won't let anyone try to kill him because of what he is."

"Then both of your destinies are on the right track. Even so…"

The dragon raised it's head and gazed towards Camelot.

"You may yet fail. Merlin _must_ come to terms with what he has done, and only you, young prince, can help him do that."

"How do you know what he did today?"

"How could I not? The feats he performed today sent ripples throughout magic across the world. Any being with magic could not have failed to notice. His acts today were incredible, but he must forgive himself before you both can go on."

"I think he understands that I'm not going to kill him now… and we did just spend an hour talking about, well, everything. He's feeling much better than he was."

The dragon nodded, looking a little sad.

_Can dragons look sad? I'll have to ask Merlin…_

"I cannot deny, young prince, that some of what Merlin feels guilt for was done at my insistence, and for that I am sorry. I told him the only way to break the sleeping spell over Camelot was if Morgana died." Kilgharrah shook his head. "I do not lie when I say there was no alternative. But all the same, it very nearly destroyed him to poison her. He believed she could be saved. Perhaps he still does, and maybe she can yet earn her repentance. But ultimately her destiny lies down the road of evil, and no-one can change that."

"And yet, you gave him the spell he needed to save her when she fell."

"He should have let her die. His compassion prevailed, and he ordered me to aid him, against my advice. Our friendship has recovered since then, but I do wish he would heed my advice more often. I can see something of the future, after all, and one day his kindness will come back to haunt him."

Arthur smiled, shaking his head.

"No amount of prophecy and future this and future that will ever make Merlin change his mind."  
>"Not when his heart is involved, no. It is his greatest weakness. And yet, if I had succeeded in changing him to be a dispassionate puppet of destiny, I would not be here. He spared me because of his compassion. He can see the good in anyone, but after today, he can no longer see the good in himself. Change that."<p>

The dragon reared up and took flight once more, vanishing beyond the stars.

Arthur felt a new respect and awe for his friend; to be friends with the Great Dragon…

**X**

"Morning, Arthur!" Merlin threw the small water jug.

Arthur opened his eyes to find he was entangled in his leather coat, still dressed from last night, with Merlin staring at him, displaying no small amusement.

Arthur merely groaned, and weakly threw a pillow at his servant, groaning louder when it stopped in mid-air.

"What time did you get back last night?" Merlin asked, grinning at his master's devitalised state.

"After midnight." Arthur flopped into the chair at his desk, very nearly planting his face in his breakfast.

"I had a little talk with… a friend of yours."

Arthur fumbled for the water jug, running a hand through his wet hair, for once not complaining about the morning ritual of immersion.

"Would said friend be the size of a large house and very scaly?"

Arthur nodded.

"He's very nice once you get to know him."

Arthur tore into his bread as Merlin set out some clothes and made the bed.

"That will be all. You can have the day off."

"No, I'm staying here to make sure you don't have another breakdown!"

Arthur scoffed.

"That was only because I was still thinking about what to do with you."  
>"Aww, I'm touched."<p>

"Don't get used to it."

Arthur finished his breakfast and went to dress.

"Oh, and Merlin?"  
>His manservant stopped halfway out of the door.<p>

"You are the most selfless, compassionate, loyal, trustworthy and courageous idiot I've ever met. You're the greatest sorcerer in the world and you're choosing to slave after me when you could do anything you wanted. That's a humbling thing, and I'm proud to call you my friend. Now go and enjoy your day off. That's an order."  
>Merlin laughed, promptly losing his grip on the door and tumbling to the floor with an oomph, grinning.<p>

Arthur shook his head, and his manservant went away to do as ordered.

**X**

That morning, Uther surprised everyone in the castle by turning up at the throne room – which had, minus the huge scratch on the floor, been tidied up - unaided, and not in his dressing gown. Everyone was further astonished when he spoke clearly and coherently, quickly dealing with the morning's business, without Arthur needing to interject at any point.

Of course, there was a reason for this.

As Arthur was about to call the session to a close, a group of knights and guardsmen burst in, holding bundles of chains.

Arthur was surprised when his father did not react to this unexpected interruption.

"Sire, all is ready."  
>"Excellent." The oddly sane king stood up – and clapped a pair of manacles on his son's wrists, raising gasps across the whole room.<p>

"Father!"

"Seal the room! No-one is to leave until our business is concluded."

Another guardsman came forward and bound the prince's legs.

"Father, what is going on?"

"Emrys is a threat that cannot be ignored, we must neutralise him."

"What?"

Uther ignored his son's protests, instead silencing him with a gag.

Four guardsmen took the chains, which were delicate things, like you might hang a flower-basket from. At the end of each was a manacle, inscribed with a single rune. The chains glittered in the golden light falling through the windows, and Arthur realised they were forged of _silver_.

"Bring me my dressing gown!"

Arthur groaned inwardly as Uther flung the red, velvet garment he had hardly been coaxed out of the previous months over his doublet.

"Now, if Emrys is truly the great protector he pretends to be, he shall be along shortly. You may begin."

The King nodded to the elderly knight who assumed a position behind the prince.

"I'm sorry, sire, but this is for the good of Camelot."

Arthur screamed in his mind for Merlin to hurry up and do something.

As the first blow of the knight's stick fell on Arthur's princely backside, his call was answered, though no-one knew it.

Five minutes passed, and there was no sign of Emrys appearing.

Then suddenly, a golden flash! – followed by a cry of agony.

Emrys was on his knees, a manacle around each limb, the symbol etched into each glowing blindingly.

"Well done, men. You will all be rewarded for this."

The knights drew their swords, surrounding the bound Emrys at a safe distance.

Uther walked from the dais, still keeping a safe distance. Arthur struggled against his bonds, protests muffled by the gag.

_Why isn't he doing anything?_

"You claim to be the greatest sorcerer ever to live, yet you have been trapped more easily than any other I have encountered."  
>Emry's gravel voice came clear, with no sign of the pain he had encountered.<p>

"Warlock. I am a warlock."

"There is no difference. You still practice magic, and that cannot be tolerated."

"I was born with magic; it is in my very blood. I have no choice in the matter."

"No-one can be born with magic!"

"I am living proof. As is your daughter, Morgana."

"Do not speak that name!"

"She is a Seer. Her nightmares were visions. And how do you explain her escape with her sister? Did she dig her way out of the rubble, and get past the guards carrying a comatose Morgause?"  
>"Silence! You will be executed immediately. Take him away!"<p>

Emrys chuckled, and rose to his feet, seemingly untroubled by the chains that bound him.

"I have no intention of going to prison. I could escape, but that would merely be a waste of time. There is so much I could be doing."  
>"Enough of this!"<p>

"My thoughts exactly. You see, you made a mistake today."

Uther snorted.

"Ridiculous! You cannot break free of those bonds!"

"Wrong. The containment spell on these chains and manacles are only as strong as the one who cast them. The caster was powerful, but I am stronger yet. Two: this only contains my power within myself, meaning it merely limits me to one option of escape rather than nullifying my magic outright. And three, you have made me _very_ angry. I understand that you are insane, but beating your son in a hopeless attempt to capture me is unacceptable."

"ENOUGH! The pyre be damned, kill him now!"

Emrys tutted and pulled on the chains connected to his arms; the guards stumbled forwards, giving him some slack.

As the knights charged, Emrys clapped his hands above his head, golden light coursing along the chains, shattering them and ripping the manacles to pieces. A shockwave knocked the knights to their backsides, accompanied by the tinkle of burnt silver dropping to the floor.

"If I say sorry for the big scratch I made yesterday, will you stop trying to catch me?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle into his gag, and some of the court laughed with him.

With a final cry of "SIEZE HIM!" from Uther, Emrys vanished.

A final parting shot, a telepathic warning, echoed through the castle…

_Uther Pendragon, there will be a reckoning…_


	9. An Abrupt But Amusing Ending

Camelot life went on as normal for the next three days. Servants served, lords lorded, the knights were knightly, and the King… was the sanest he had ever been.

Which was nice.

With the 'threat' of Emrys, the greatest sorcerer ever to live, Uther had all but retreated from madness, locked in his rooms with reams of parchment and a quartet of elderly knights Arthur had assigned to 'help' him.

When he was out and about, the populace of the citadel and Camelot were astonished to see that the mad King was rarely seen with his dressing gown, a sure sign of slow recovery.  
>Within reason, Uther was given free reign to try and catch the elusive Emrys within the castle and city, 'reason' being a small weekly budget and orders for his cadre of knights to lock him in his chambers should he lapse into complete incoherency, or if he so much as glance at his dressing gown.<br>He finally got his chance on the fourth day after Emrys's first appearance, when the 'reckoning' the warlock had spoken of came to pass.

**X**

Arthur was starting to wonder what exactly his magical manservant was up to. Merlin had simply requested the afternoon off for a 'personal errand' with The Grin upon his face, and said no more.  
>Feeling the remnants of guilt stir in his stomach, Arthur obliged.<p>

Having finished his lunch, Arthur was on his way to a training session, when the faint throes of music and bad singing caught his ears.

Backtracking and assuming a customary frown, Arthur followed the sound out into the courtyard, and almost fell over at the sight.

His father, wearing a flowing purple gown and impractical heels, was prancing around with a lute warbling an old ballad of love and princes.

The King had clearly gone over the edge this time; but as Arthur was about to run down the steps and drag his father back to his rooms, a familiar, thunderous shout sliced the hysterical laughter of the crowd with the precision and ease of a headsman.

"SIEZE HIM!"

The _real_ Uther Pendragon barrelled down the steps, his four knights huffing and puffing in pursuit.

Arthur was seized by a fit of chronic laughter as Merlin – disguised as a gowned Uther – skipped away, screaming like a little girl.

A roar of laughter rose from the watchers as Real Uther tripped on the discarded lute, ending up in an awkward pile with his companions.  
>"I'll get you next time, Emrys!"<p>

The King extracted himself from the heap, denounced everyone present as sorcerers, and stormed away, silencing the merriment with a single glare.

Arthur hurried to Gaius's chambers to see a warlock about a prank.

**X**

Merlin sheepishly prodded the dress beneath Gaius's bed as Arthur stormed in.

"You know, Merlin, getting him that angry must be good for him. He hasn't been able to make people shut up with one glare for months."

"I'm inclined to agree, sire." Gaius said, shuffling in, eyes fixed on the floor, bottom lip curled into his mouth in barely contained chuckles.

The three of them coughed politely and assumed floor-staring duties.

Hilarity prevailed, and the unbridled laughter emanating from the physician's rooms was absorbed into the general chuckles that permeated the whole of the citadel.

**X**

"I don't know where you get your inspiration from, Merlin, but that was the best yet!"

Arthur collapsed onto Merlin's bed, utterly hysterical.

"I mean… getting him to…"

"I don't think Gaius's leeches will ever quite recover." His manservant quipped.

Gaius stumbled into the tiny room, leaning on the door handle for fear of collapsing.

"My leeches may never recover, but I can tell you who will; Uther has never been better. He hasn't touched his dressing gown in two weeks! If you keep this up, my boy, I have no doubt he'll make a complete recovery one day."

"Well, that's good, I was starting to feel a bit guilty."

Gaius chuckled. "Pah! You're doing him a world of good. With his obsession with catching you, he no longer focuses only on his grief. I dare say he looks forward to your weekly antics as much as anyone else."

"Not that he'll ever thank me for it."  
>"Anything can happen, Merlin."<p>

Gaius went to tend to his poor leeches, leaving Merlin and Arthur incapacitated by chuckles.

Arthur sighed as Merlin brazenly flicked through his spell book, looking for next week's idea.

"I'm still getting used to the fact you could destroy me without even moving."  
>Merlin snorted.<p>

"You know I'll never do that."

Merlin dropped the book on the bed to show Arthur something that had caught his eye.

"Now," He said to the prince, dark mischief gleaming in the thundercloud blue of his eyes, "What do you think about stealing all his clothes and making them dance in a conga line around the castle?"

Arthur grinned.

"I think," he replied, pulling Merlin into a friendly headlock and affectionately giving him a noogie, "That my father isn't the only one who's getting back to his old self."

_**A/N;**_ _And there you have it. Angst, badass-osity, pranks, and a Noodle Incident. But fear not! I plan to do more. Chronicling Merlin's antagonising of Uther, or a sequel perhaps._

_Thank you, and goodnight._

_And if you have the time, please take a look at my Sherlock/Merlin crossover, Not Just Suicide._

_EDIT: I am indeed doing a sequel._

_Given that disaster strikes on every hunting trip, can you imagine how calamitous a trip to the beach would be?_

_Stick around to find out. Or don't._


End file.
